


Supernova

by slytherco



Series: 25 Days of Drarry [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, New Year's Eve, Soft Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21872887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherco/pseuds/slytherco
Summary: Day 11 of 25 Days of Drarry.Prompt: “Will it be too clichée to say I love you?”---On New Year's Eve, Draco tries to explain how he feels about Harry.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: 25 Days of Drarry [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559188
Comments: 9
Kudos: 190





	Supernova

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://slytherco.tumblr.com/post/189774884788/25-days-of-drarry-day-11)

Ten minutes to midnight.

The first loud cracks of early fireworks can be heard outside. They’re standing in front of their bedroom window, waiting for the clock to strike, announcing the New Year. Harry stands behind Draco, his arms wrapped around his waist, chin propped up on the blond’s shoulder. The room is quiet; a thick layer of snow outside seems to muffle the explosions ripping across the night sky. As the crashes die down, Draco can only hear Harry’s soft breathing right next to him; the serene rise and fall of his chest is grounding and hypnotizing, like waves crashing against the sharp edge of a cliff. He feels the warmth radiating from the other man; how it engulfs him and reduces his surroundings to near-nonexistence. Like an anchor made of stardust, Harry is a strong presence, burning with a calm intensity, threatening to incinerate. 

Eight minutes.

“Will it be too clichée to say I love you at midnight?”, He hears Harry’s low voice, barely over a whisper, as if not to disturb the peace.

Draco huffs. He buries himself deeper in Harry’s arms, slotting his back closer to the other man’s chest. He turns his head slightly and Harry places and unconscious kiss to his forehead; it’s a featherlight brush of lips, like a thousand others they shared before. 

“Yes. But you’ll still say it, anyway.”

“I will.”

Six minutes to midnight.

Draco’s heart always trembles when he says it. Those three words, _I love you_. When Harry leaves for work in the morning and kisses him goodbye. _I love you_. When Draco makes him dinner and brushes a stray lock of hair from his eyes. _I love you._ When they’re at a ministry function, and someone shoots him a dirty look, and Harry’s hand snaps to his. _I love you._ When they’re in bed, hot, sweaty, and shivering with desire; every roll of his hips, every moan, every shared gasp, punctuated with the three words. _I love you, I love you, I love you._ Draco drinks it up every time, to the point of drowning, and nothing ever matters outside of that moment.

Five minutes until midnight.

“You’re not going to say back, though.” It’s not a question. His bitterness is well-concealed, trained to remain disguised as a statement, devoid of emotion. Draco closes his eyes for a few seconds, hoping it will render him invisible, feeling like a complete fraud.

Three years. It’s been almost three years and he hasn’t said it. A thousand days and he could have said it on any of them. But using _love_ to describe how he felt was like a blasphemy to what Harry deserved. Draco couldn’t count the times when the words were at the tip of his tongue; every time, he choked with them, swallowed it down, and they punched him in the throat. How could one describe the sensation of drowning in wildfire? The feeling of being paralyzed with emotion to the point where he wanted to step out of his own skin? Love? He uttered those words to his family, friends, relatives. He didn’t love Harry. It was so much more than just that.

Loving Harry Potter is like crashing into a supernova.

“You know how I feel.”

“I do.” He shifts and one of his arms wraps around Draco’s chest; he inhales slowly, nose buried in Draco’s hair. “It’d be nice to hear it, though. Even if it’s only once in a lifetime.”

Three minutes. Fireworks echo in the distance in a cacophony of thunders.

“It’s…” A shiver goes down his spine as Harry’s breath tickles his ear. “It’s not _enough_.” His voice sounds almost like a whine; a petulant little boy, terrified of his own heart. Pathetic. Harry is quiet, waiting for him to elaborate. So he continues, his heart constricting.

“Harry.” The other man’s arms tighten around him ever so slightly, reassuring. “Do you know how eviscerating it feels? Loving you, that is.” Harry freezes. “Every time you look at me, I forget how to breathe.” Draco sniffs.

Draco turns around in his arms and looks him in the eyes; they’re glinting like a forest before a thunderstorm, waiting. One minute left. He brushes a single eyelash off of Harry’s cheek.

“You went through so much _shit_ to be with me. And, Salazar, I feel so selfish, I want this so bad I want to _scream_ , Harry. How the fuck do I tell you I love you without sounding like a hoax?”

Harry’s expression breaks; he looks at Draco with utter tenderness, his eyes full of overwhelming emotion. His hand strokes Draco’s cheek and his eyelids flutter. “What I feel… It’s overwhelming.” Their foreheads touch.

“Draco,” Harry starts, but he touches his thumb to the man’s lower lip. 

“I’ve yet to learn how to tell you. But for now,” He takes a deep breath. “Know that I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Harry closes the distance between them in a searing kiss. Draco feels a hint of wetness on his cheek and pulls him closer.

Fireworks erupt anew, as the clock downstairs strikes midnight.


End file.
